Disputed Love

by Margaret Carr

  She gave him a quick nod and rolled up the window and started the engine. Dabbing her face with a tissue when she pulled up in front of The Ugly Duckling, she did a quick check in the mirror before climbing out of the car. Mac slammed the door of the Land-Rover and came over to where she stood. They moved inside without speaking. It was much quieter tonight and they found a seat in the corner, well away from any of the other customers.

  He crossed to the bar after asking her what she would like to drink and came back with a brandy for himself and a red wine for her.

  When they were settled he said, ‘Right, now tell me what’s happened. Take your time.’

  Belle sighed and shook her head.

  ‘Nothing’s happened really. I was thinking it was time perhaps that I should leave.’

  ‘But I thought you were determined to stay with the little lad.’

  ‘I was, but he knows his father now. It wouldn’t be such a wrench for him.’

  Mac frowned.

  ‘I don’t understand. Are you telling me Carlton’s attitude has changed towards you and the boy?’

  ‘Yes, I think so. He’s much more pleasant and he has tidied himself up a great deal.’

  ‘Yet I find you sitting alone on a hillside with tears in your eyes. Won’t you be glad to get your own life back?’

  She let her gaze rest on his gentle face beneath its unruly mop of hair.

  ‘Jack has been my life, for nearly four years.’

  ‘I know, I understand,’ he said, covering her hand with his own. ‘But if Carlton has improved as much as you think, then perhaps it’s time to move on, no matter how attached to the boy you feel. You are going to have to let go at some point because when all is said and done he isn’t yours.’

  ‘I know,’ she whispered.

  A woman in her thirties, smartly dressed, entered the bar and sat down at a table nearby. Then a man of average height with a smooth, featureless face followed with a travel bag on his shoulder and a case in his hand. He marched up to the bar and asked for a room for the night. When the barman asked for the length of the stay, the man replied that he didn’t know.

  ‘One or two nights at the most.’

  He talked with the proverbial pebble in his mouth and flicked back his straight blonde hair with the regularity of a nervous habit. Belle had lost interest in them when the name of Windward Cottage featured in their conversation. Belle’s immediate reaction was to turn towards the speaker. Mac laid a restraining hand on her arm and signalled her to silence. They listened unabashed to the couple’s talk.

  It seemed they had come with the sole intention of finding Jeffrey Carlton. The man left the table a short while later to renew their drinks and they heard him ask directions to the cottage.

  ‘We’ll go up there in the morning,’ he told the woman on his return.

  ‘You’d better warn Carlton he’s about to have visitors,’ Mac said, as he saw her back to her car after finishing their second drink.

  It was freezing cold and Belle shivered.

  ‘I didn’t like the look of them.’

  ‘Probably old acquaintances from his better-off days. They’re representative of the type that used to hang around him.’

  ‘You don’t think he would go back to being like that again, do you?’ Belle asked anxiously.

  Mac hunched over as he slammed the car door. Belle wound down the window and waited for his reply.

  ‘We don’t know, do we? It may have been the lifestyle he was used to, or it may simply have been a way of working out some of his feelings over the split-up of his marriage. Anyway, whatever it was it isn’t going to happen again, not now the money’s gone.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Next morning, Belle slept in. She was waiting by the set table when Jeffrey and Jack returned from feeding the animals.

  ‘You slept in, Belle,’ Jack accused. ‘I wanted to get you up but daddy said you were tired. Were you tired, Belle?’

  ‘Of course I was tired, feeding two big farmers all day.’

  ‘Daddy isn’t a farmer. He just feeds the animals for the real farmer so he can live in the cottage, don’t you, Daddy?’

  Jeffrey, who was hanging up their coats on the back of the kitchen door, muttered some indistinct reply and the little boy continued.

  ‘Can I have a bicycle, Belle? We didn’t bring my bicycle. Will we be going home soon?’

  Jeffrey’s eyes met hers across the boy’s head. Belle took a deep breath.

  ‘You’d grown too big for your old bike, Jack, that’s why we left it behind. Don’t you remember?’

  Jack echoed Belle’s sigh.

  ‘Oh, yes, now I remember.’

  Belle led him to the sink and washed his hands and both adults breathed again. As they ate their cereal, ham and eggs and toast, Belle told Jeffrey that some people might be coming to see him that morning. He looked up from the table.

  ‘What do you mean, some people?’

  ‘We overhead them, in The Ugly Duckling last night, asking directions to the cottage.’

  ‘Who’s we? Did you speak to them? What did they want?’

  Belle pursed her lips as his frown deepened.

  ‘I was with Duncan MacDonald and, no, I did not speak to them so I don’t know what they wanted.’

  ‘Well, they wouldn’t be local, that’s certain. What did they look like, sound like? You must have noticed something about them.’

  Belle was getting a bit fed-up with this cross examination.

  ‘Their speech was very Oxford-English. He was blonde, good-looking in a tailor’s dummy sort of way and she was taller and fairer than I am and very smart.’

  ‘Everyone is taller and fairer than you are! That’s no description. I don’t recognise them. How old would they be?’

  Smarting from his insult, she said, keeping her eyes on her plate, ‘Well, seeing as everyone around here is older than me I would say maybe about your age.’

  ‘I’m not older than you, Belle,’ Jack’s voice piped up reminding her that small ears hear as well as big ears.

  ‘Of course you’re not, sweetheart. You’re such a big, strong boy I’d forgotten you were only three.’

  ‘Four soon,’ he reminded her.

  ‘Send Jack over to the barn for me when they come. Don’t bring them over.’

  ‘All right.’

  He left the cottage and Belle began to clear away the dishes after settling Jack on the floor with his garage and cars. The cars were zipping around the table legs pushed by an energetic Jack as Belle started to wash up. It was Jack who heard the car draw up outside and called Belle’s attention to it. The vehicle’s door slammed only seconds before a sharp rap was echoed on the kitchen door.

  Belle wiped her hands on the towel and crossed the floor to answer the persistent knocking. The tailor’s dummy was standing on the low step facing her. The woman was sitting in the car, her eyes fixed on the doorway as though expecting something nasty to jump out on her.

  ‘Can I help you?’ Belle asked the stranger.

  A wide smile cracked the porcelain cheeks.

  ‘I’m looking for a Jeffrey Carlton, and you are?’

  Belle turned back into the room.

  ‘Jack, will you fetch your father, please?’

  Jack looked up from where he was playing. He opened his mouth to say something then caught the look in Belle’s eyes and got to his feet.

  ‘Hello there, Jack. My name’s Peter.’

  The man on the doorstep beamed down on the boy. Jack looked up at the man and back to Belle. When she gave a nod of her head Jack ran for the barn.

  ‘Please, come in. Mr Carlton won’t be long.’

  She glanced across at the large car.

  ‘Oh, my wife won’t come in. It won’t take me more than a few minutes to say what I have to. Have you lived here long?’

  Belle led him towards the chesterfield but he continued to stand as he cast a sweeping gaze around the room.

  ‘My, my, he did f
all on hard times, didn’t he?’

  ‘Isabelle Mendes, Jack’s nanny,’ Belle introduced herself in a stilted voice and offered her hand.

  ‘Ah,’ he said in a knowing tone, as he shook hands. ‘Handy things, the old nannies.’

  Belle hadn’t liked the look of him on the previous night and she liked him even less now. There was a falseness about him that made her hackles quiver with unease. Then Jeffrey was standing in the doorway blocking the light from outside.

  ‘Jeffrey Carlton. What can I do for you?’

  ‘Peter Kettering. I’ve come about the boy,’ the stranger replied.

  ‘What about the boy?’

  ‘I have to tell you that I’m claiming custody.’

  ‘What!’

  The sharp retort battered the walls of the cottage. Peter Kettering wavered in the blast then resumed his cocksure stance.

  ‘The young lady here,’ he said indicating Belle, ‘tells me she’s his nanny, so we’ll take her off your hands, too.’

  ‘You are taking no-one off my hands, thank you very much, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll clear out of here now and never come back.’

  Creases pleated Kettering’s brow.

  ‘I can’t do that. The boy’s my son and I want him. He’s nothing to you. You signed a certificate to give him a name, that’s all.’

  ‘My name is on his birth certificate as his father and that’s good enough for me. Now clear out before I throw you out.’

  Jeffrey took a menacing step forward with a wide-eyed Jack clinging to one leg.

  ‘Get out!’

  ‘This is no way to behave,’ Kettering exclaimed, sidling towards the door. ‘If you won’t be reasonable we’ll have to take it to court. I was hoping we could avoid that for the kid’s sake.’

  Jeffrey shook off Jack and thrust him towards Belle, while Kettering, hands out in front of him, backed out of the door.

  ‘You can’t kidnap my son. You’ll be hearing from me again.’

  Jeffrey slammed the door in his face and turned. Belle had Jack clamped to her thigh. His eyes were tight shut and his arms wrapped around her legs. She in turn was rigid with shock. Jeffrey opened his mouth as though to say something then jammed it tightly shut and followed Kettering out of the door.

  ‘Have I got two daddies, Belle?’ Jack asked a short while later after the sound of the Ketterings’ car had faded into the distance.

  ‘No, sweetheart.’

  ‘That other man said he was my daddy, too, but I didn’t like him.’

  Belle bit her lip and wished that Jeffrey would come back and explain to them what was going on. Why on earth would these people turn up out of nowhere and claim Jack as their son? She had never set eyes on them before and they were no friends of Jeffrey’s from the past, so who were they? How was she to go about protecting Jack when she was kept in the dark? Where was Jeffrey Carlton now? Why didn’t he come back and tell them it was all some silly mistake?

  When he did return for his meal that evening, his dark, brooding looks would have stopped a wiser person from confrontation. But Belle, her frustration and anger gathering momentum throughout the afternoon, was a keg of dynamite just waiting for touch paper.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she demanded in a tight voice as he sat down at the table.

  He stared at her, his eyes like chips of glass. Then he broke contact and his glance hovered over the boy.

  ‘None of your business.’

  Belle’s lips tightened. Eyes of cold ice threatened to flood him with anger were it not for Jack’s presence. After the meal, which was only half-consumed by both adults, Jeffrey continued to sit in brooding silence by the range. Belle made a determined effort to play with Jack until his bedtime, ignoring the silent menace in the chair.

  When she came downstairs after putting Jack to bed, bursting to have her say, the kitchen was empty. Belle paced the floor, kicked the rocking-chair and thumped the mantle. If it hadn’t been for leaving Jack alone in the house and that awful man threatening to come back for him, she would have gone to the barn and dragged Jeffrey Carlton out of it.

  Next morning, she was up before either of them. She heard the door open as she was reaching for a pan to make the porridge.

  ‘Jack not up yet?’

  ‘I let him sleep. I want to know what that man was talking about yesterday,’ she said, as she straightened and turned to face him, pan in hand. ‘And don’t tell me it’s none of my business. If Jack’s happiness is involved then I’m making it my business.’

  She set the pan down and thrust her hands deep into her jeans’ pockets, so he wouldn’t see them tremble. He sighed and scowled at her from an angry face.

  ‘Jack is perfectly safe with me.’

  ‘Who is that man and why does he claim to be Jack’s father?’

  ‘I know no more than you do.’

  ‘Jack’s asking questions. I don’t know how to answer him. You are his real father, aren’t you?’

  ‘That’s what it says on the birth certificate and presumably in the will, or do you think that perhaps the solicitors got their facts mixed?’

  ‘No, of course not. It’s just a strange thing to do, to turn up and claim someone else’s child. Do you think he’ll come back?’

  ‘Not if he places any value on his life. Now bring Jack down or I’ll have to go without him.’

  Belle had to be satisfied with that. She was still upset when they came in for breakfast. Catching herself snapping at Jack for the second time that morning she took herself off to her room and sat on the bed. After a short spell Jack came into the room, a thoughtful look on his small face.

  ‘Belle,’ he whispered coming up close to her knee, ‘Daddy says, do you want to come to Moorgate in his car?’

  Belle stroked his head then picked him up and hugged him tight.

  ‘That would be lovely. Tell Daddy I’ll be down in a minute.’

  When he’d gone, she let go a long sigh and moved across the landing to the bathroom to tidy herself up. It would be nice to go into Moorgate. There was nothing she needed but they could wander around while Jeffrey did what he had to do.

  Jack climbed into his seat in the back of the car and was fastened in by his father. Belle moved to sit beside him but Jeffrey motioned her to sit in the front passenger seat next to himself. Jack was, after all, used to sitting alone in the back when Belle was driving. She sat in silence, enjoying the comfort of the big car. The seats were cream leather and contrasted beautifully with the dark green outer paintwork, while the walnut dashboard added elegance to the lovely, old car. Belle had never sat in anything more classy than her Mini.

  ‘It looks as though it might rain,’ he said, scowling ahead through the windscreen. ‘I have some business to conduct at the solicitor’s so we’ll split up. It shouldn’t take me long, but in case it rains, it’s no good my saying I’ll meet you back at the car. There’s a pub, The White Swan, next to the first set of traffic lights on the main street. We’ll meet there in an hour.’

  Belle nodded her head and gathered her bag and gloves as they drove into the town and parked the car along the riverside. It was very cold, so after a quick go on the swings with Jack, she hurried him up the street and into one of several big stores. It was in the second of these that she was bumped from behind by a woman’s shopping bag as a tall blonde pushed her way impatiently through the crowd. Belle recognised Peter Kettering’s wife at first glance. She was about to hustle Jack off in the opposite direction when the woman turned and saw her.

  ‘Excuse me, but isn’t that the Carlton boy?’

  She had a shrill piercing voice and was pointing to Jack.

  ‘His name is Jack, Mrs Kettering,’ Belle replied, taking Jack’s hand firmly into her own.

  ‘But he’s my husband’s little boy.’

  People were beginning to stare.

  ‘Well, it was nice to meet you. I’m afraid we have to meet Mr Carlton now,’ Belle said and tried to edge away from the woman
who looked frantically around her.

  ‘But you can’t take him away! He’s not yours,’ she called out.

  Belle felt the panic rise up inside her. What was this stupid woman doing? She was creating a scene. Oh, no! She groaned at the sight of the store manager moving towards them.

  ‘Is something wrong, madam? Can I be of help?’ he asked Mrs Kettering with a plastic smile pinned to his face.

  Belle coughed alongside him, making him turn his attention her way.

  ‘Mrs Kettering is trying to persuade this crowd that my charge is her son. Why she should do this I have no idea, but we are due to meet his father very shortly so I would be grateful if you would move out of our way.’

  The other’s woman’s mouth was wide open in shocked indignation.

  ‘He isn’t my son,’ she announced to the now startled manager. ‘He’s my husband’s son by an earlier relationship.’

  ‘Whom does the little boy live with?’ the manager asked, with a suspicious look in his eye.

  ‘I’m his nanny and he lives with his father, in Todwick.’

  ‘I think we should check this out in my office. If you will come with me, ladies.’

  Mrs Kettering shrugged her shoulders.

  ‘I’m far too busy to argue the point. I shall tell my husband I’ve seen you when he returns from London. ’Bye.’

  She marched straight through the small crowd of onlookers towards the main door. The manager hurried after her, stumbling over threats and promises. Belle seized the opportunity to hurry Jack from the store by another exit. It was raining outside and they ran for The White Swan. They arrived puffing and panting in the main lounge, just as a frowning Jeffrey was leaving to look for them.

  ‘Where the devil have you been? You’re fifteen minutes late.’

  ‘I’m sorry, we were held up,’ Belle began to explain.

  ‘A lady in the shop told all the people I was hers,’ Jack cried, his face pink from running. ‘Everybody wants me.’

  Belle couldn’t help the smile that flitted across her mouth at Jack’s sudden realisation of his importance. One glance at Jeffrey’s shocked face soon wiped the smile away.

  ‘It was Mrs Kettering. We just want to go home,’ she said, as he glanced questioningly at a nearby table.